Kavilor
by NTR
Summary: Something is out there. Waiting to strike.
1. Something Special

"So, what you're saying, basically, is that you want something a bit more powerful?" the salesman asked rhetorically.   
"You could say that."   
  
The man pulled a well oiled M4A1 Colt from the back room and set it on the glass counter gently, "M4A1 Colt. Got it from a buddy of mine in the Marines back in '04. Even got the grenade launcher attachment. No grenades though so I don't have it attached."   
  
"You've fired it?"   
"Hell yeah. Only a couple times though. Trust me, there's no barrel stress or powder indentations. It's still perfect."   
"To you."   
"Come on man," the store clerk whined, "it won't give you a single problem. I swear."   
"Sorry. I guess I'm looking for something special."   
"Damn it," the clerk stated as he pulled the gun and set it below the counter. "Wait," he started, "you said you're looking for something special right?"   
"Yeah."   
"I know this guy. Brings in some high tech stuff every now and then. Makes good sales and he's pretty reliable. Not a real asshole about taking his cut. Well, what I'm saying is, he could probably hook you up with something very special."   
"Really? And why are you referring me to him?"   
"I scratch his back, he scratches mine."   
"Alright, aside from the fantasies you have for this guy, what do you get out of it?"   
The clerk was somewhat stunned at the insult but brushed it aside at his chance for a sale, "I get ten percent for referring you. I don't know, he just got an OICW in. If I can get a grand in my pocket for just telling you to get the fuck out of my store than I'm okay with it."   
  
The man smiled and pulled off his sunglasses, setting them to the side on the counter. "What was that?"   
"You heard me." The clerk reached below the counter and dropped a poorly made business card into the customer's hand. "Go see him and ask to look at the OICW, I think you'll like it."   
"Like it?" the man asked, "OICW, Objective Individual Combat Weapon, made for the Land Warrior program during the late nineties. Released in '08 for the United States army, particularly the Rangers. Designed to fill the role of any weapon in any circumstance. Fires twenty millimeter high explosive air bursting ammunition or five point five six millimeter kinetic energy rounds. Add the fire control system which includes a night vision scope and it rounds out pretty well. The FCS can even gauge the distance of your target so you can set the ammunition to burst prior to impact for non-lethal takedowns." The man smiled slightly, "The first of many programs to design a better equipped and perfect soldier. Plan launched in '08 but was too expensive to be considered useful during peace time."   
  
The customer nodded and smiled, "Great thing about it was you could nail someone hiding behind a bunker. Have the HE ammo explode directly over them. But the government had to piss and moan about cost. Why equip ten soldiers with perfect equipment when you can send one hundred with a bunch of crap? Guess the government didn't really care about saving lives."   
Kavilor smiled, showing off a sharp set of canines, "Guess not. Makes sense though. I bet they pursued the idea in other places. Thanks for the card."   
"No problem," the clerk said as Kavilor turned and walked out the door. Remembering, he shouted out after him, "Tell him Mark sent you!"


	2. Sanctity

Light filtered in through the holes in the ceiling leaving shafts of light cascading down the aisles of pews. The sanctity of the decaying building left Krit humbled as he sat in the confession booth and tried not to glance into the grating. The priest had listened to Krit speak for several minutes and after Krit lost his words, he found that there were no sounds to be heard from the other side of the grate. Leaning in closer he whispered, "Father?"   
  
Krit's enhanced vision pierced the darkness but he found nothing but a deeper darkness dwelling inside the booth. He moved closer and whispered again, "Fath-"   
  
The wood paneling separating the two booths exploded in fragments as two arms came crashing through to grab at Krit. Instinct caused him to jump backwards, but it was clearly a mistake as he slammed into the other wall and crashed through it. His eyes took a few moments to adjust as he struggled to stand up. He watched as the dark figure inside the booth leapt into a row of pews and disappear.   
  
Krit slowly walked down the aisles, his every sense running double time. His muscles tensed as he reached the last row and he jumped in front of it as if to catch his fleeing foe off guard. All he found was a long, empty row of tattered seat cushioning on an old, splintered church bench. Something in his mind told him that he needed to get out of there and, as he turned to run, he watched as a cross came swinging at his face.   
  
Krit's mind slipped into a deep sleep and as his body rested, his mind wandered. He found himself in the middle of a field with a thick fog surrounding him. He knew it was a dream, or he though he knew it was. He stood there for a few moments trying to see through the fog. His mind began to form shapes out of the thick air, chilling him to the core and arousing his deepest fears by showing him the most horrific creatures and evils his mind could acquire.   
  
He soon found himself running from these shapes. Running from what his mind was imagining. He ran with all his might and found himself not tiring at all from the exertion. A large stone structure loomed out of the fog and Krit ran for it. Looking back, he could faintly see the shapes in the fog following him. A full fledged army of creatures were just seconds behind. Waiting for him to slip, to make a mistake.   
  
Krit could make out a stone staircase leading to a courtyard type structure above the first floor and he took the stairs two at a time. Then he saw her. He stopped suddenly, almost as if not of his own desire. She was looking over the edge of the balcony, off into the mist and she had an air of sadness and hopelessness to her. Krit gazed upon her from the stairs, not out of attraction but out of curiosity, out of compassion. It was then he noticed the shadow behind her.   
  
It simply melted away from the shadows being cast from the towers and formed the image of a human. The figure was consumed with evil and stealthily approached the woman from behind. Krit tried to yell but his voice was lost. He took off running to help her when the fog caught up with him. The denizens of the fog consumed him and held him back. Drawing him further away until the last image he saw was of the woman's face, contorted in shock, as the figure behind her raised a long blade and carved it down her back. The figure's eyes burned intensely with the satisfaction of the kill. The satisfaction he craved.   
  
Then from afar, Krit heard her scream.


End file.
